


Cock Fight

by EldritchMage



Series: Logan and Rachel Osaka [10]
Category: Wolverine and the X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-04
Updated: 2015-07-04
Packaged: 2018-04-07 14:01:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4265928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EldritchMage/pseuds/EldritchMage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Welcome to Part 10 of my Logan and Rachel Osaka series.</p><p>Rachel has Logan back, but they're still persona non grata at the Xavier Institute - until Rogue, Kurt, and Hank talk sense into Professor X. Scott, however, is still his usual hung-up boy scout self, so you know any reconciliation won't be easy, right? Of course it won't - it'll be a snarky pissing contest.</p><p>It is, however, only until Rachel Osaka, projective empath that she is, decides she's done with the macho thing. She isn't the lady you want to piss off. When she gets angry, it *hurts* and then some.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cock Fight

My name is Rachel Osaka, mutant name Omen. Three weeks ago, I’d gone into Romania to extract a Canadian operative codenamed the Wolverine from a covert mission that had deviated from plan.

That sounds so pretentious coming from a one-time antiques dealer, doesn’t it?

That had been my profession when my parents were assassinated and I’d met the man the world knew as the Wolverine. I called him Logan, and he was my lover. I don’t know how to tell you how I evolved from a meek little Japanese girl who played house with old furniture into a black ops warrior, so I won’t try. The only thing that made me suit up for this extraction was because Logan was in a mire so deep even he couldn’t get out of it. I’d used the same Weapon X training that had been forced down both of our throats to prevent him from being delivered to Romulus, the shadowy mutant who’d manipulated Logan’s life for decades –

Oh, that’s one truth, but it’s not the main truth. Yes, Romulus had directed Logan’s life for a long time, and yes, I didn’t want him to keep doing so. But the main truth is that I’d finally gotten so angry about what had been done to Logan –

That’s not the main truth, either.

Sometimes admitting the truth is merely having the courage to look in a mirror and acknowledge the monster.

The main truth is that I’d finally gotten angry about what had been done to _me_. So much rage had grown inside _me_ …

Japanese women are not raised to admit even the existence of anger, much less get angry, or remain angry. My parents hadn’t consciously instilled such delusion in me – only a small part of my outlook was cultural. Mostly, I’d deluded myself from the day my mutant talents had manifested. All of a sudden, every object I touched bombarded me with the emotions of whoever had last touched that object. I began to get fleeting glimpses of what I could only call déjà vu, except that I saw the past, not the future. I smothered my emotions because I was so assaulted by everyone else’s. Only by denying my own could I cope with everyone else’s. Admitting my resentment meant that I was out of control, and that all of this mutant stuff was… real.

I never told my parents, or my maternal grandmother to whom I was so close. In fact, few people suspected until my parents were assassinated. That’s when Charles Xavier found me and offered me a place to hide until the motive for my parent’s deaths was clear. I don’t think he knew until after I arrived at the Institute that I’d never told anyone about my talents. It seemed so self indulgent to concern myself with my problems while I struggled to accept my parents’ horrible deaths. They’d been gunned down in front of me.

So there I was, a mutant adult in a school for mutant children, with the martial arts instructor as my bodyguard. I quickly learned that Logan was much more than a school instructor – he was a soldier of fortune, a black ops renegade, a man barely more comfortable with his talents than I was with mine. At the time, it seemed only natural that we’d fall in love, but I suspect that it was more like what happens when anyone drowning in the middle of the ocean sees a scrap of lumber. You throw yourself at it, you hold on for dear life, and you kick and scream if anything tries to take your scant comfort from you. Logan and I were both drowning when we found each other, though he was better at treading water than I was.

The powers behind Logan’s hell noted our bonding, and set out to squeeze every gram of pain out of it. At first, I was merely the leverage they used against Logan. But along the way, my mutant talents morphed from passive sensing of emotions and time streams of the past. My emotional projections could be lethal, and I had full-fledged déjà vu of the immediate future and the past at my command. Then I became worth harrying all on my own.

Intermittently, over the course of two years, I was kidnapped, tortured, starved, drugged, and coerced. I was nearly raped, nearly killed, and nearly forced into being an assassin and a terrorist. Logan endured worse. What I went through finally wore out my stubborn refusal to acknowledge my fury. The only thing that surprised anyone about me acting on my rage was how long it took me to do it.

As Logan will tell you, what generally happens when a mutant with my talents acts on her rage, people die. So Romulus found out.

I went to Romania to get my lover back. If I’d been honest with myself, I would have known that I also went to stop the elusive mutant who’d leashed Logan’s talents for so long, even if that meant Romulus’ death. I did stop him, but not in any nice, neat fashion. I came home with serious wounds, and Logan didn’t come home at all. I didn’t know where he was or what had happened to him, but I mourned him as if he were dead.

Three weeks later, three days after Christmas, Logan appeared on my roof like the black ops operator he was. To say his homecoming was emotional for both of us would be an understatement. Logan thought he’d killed me in Romania. Not only had he had to confront the reality of an ancient mutant who had manipulated his life for countless decades, but he’d also recovered many memories of his life before Weapon X. His emotions were a conflagration almost past sorting out. But I was grateful to have my samurai back, even if both of us were the worse for wear.

We had one peaceful night together, falling asleep in each other’s arms, both of us exhausted and battered, but at least allowed to take comfort together.

We weren’t so lucky the next night.

Sometimes I have terrible nightmares. Some of the worst are second-hand. Several months ago, Logan and I had traded memories. Logan had gotten mine of the night when Sabretooth had flooded me with the emotions he’d felt when he’d killed Logan’s wife, Silver Fox. I’d gotten Logan’s of his month of torture when Weapon X had tried to force him to kill me.

That month was what I dreamed of. If Logan and I hadn’t have been mutants, it would have been terribly upsetting, but after a few deep breaths, that would’ve been it. But we both _are_ mutants, so....

I project emotions. Logan’s animal senses pick up life force and emotions through scent, and he has his own emotional terrors that twist his dreams. On top of that, his black ops training puts his killing instincts on a hair trigger. So the emotional agony I inflicted on both of us through was no minor thing. When my terror woke Logan into full attack mode, he barely missed impaling me on his claws, and I barely missed frying him with my projections. It might’ve been funny to watch the sudden flurry of bodies launching themselves at each other before either of us was awake, trying to defend, trying to wake up, trying to pull such lethal attacks back when reality surfaced. But it wasn’t funny to live it.

“What the hell –!” Logan snarled, claws flashing in the moonlight.

“I won’t kill her!” I screamed at the same time, projecting hard enough to give Logan a bloody nose. The only saving grace was that my projection woke him fully, and he backed off the attack.

“Rachel?” Logan blinked painfully in the glare from my eyes. When my talents were at their most active, my eyes glowed too brightly for anyone to look at directly. “Kill who? What’re you talkin’ about?”

“I’m awake,” I mumbled, more to convince myself than Logan. “I’m awake.”

Logan retracted his claws and tried to turn on the bedside light, but found the lamp in ruins on the floor. He reached over me for the one on my side of the bed. I flinched at the bright light and shut my eyes.

“Son of a bitch!” he swore, pressing the sheet to the back of my arm. It stung and I smelled blood, so he must’ve caught me with his claws. “I’m sorry, darlin’. Lemme get somethin’ to bandage your shoulder.”

I groped for him with my eyes shut, caught his hand as he climbed out of bed. “I got you, too. Your nose is bleeding. You probably have a terrible headache.”

“You could say that,” he growled. “But it’s clearin’ faster than your arm is. You got a medical kit?”

I floundered out of bed. “In the bathroom. On the second shelf of the linen closet.”

“Got it.”

We patched each other up in silence. From the way Logan glowered at me, I thought he was angry about the unexpected assault, and rightly so. I put a hand on his arm.

“I’m sorry, Logan. I’m so sorry.”

Unexpectedly, he put his arms around me and held me carefully against his chest. His emotions flushed with guilt. “So’m I. I coulda killed you, Rachel. I shouldn’t be here.”

“I could’ve done the same, and maybe I shouldn’t want you to be here. But I do, and we survived.”

He whuffed, unsure whether he agreed or disagreed with me, but he let it go.

“Do you want some tea, or do you want to go back to bed?”

“Bed’s fine. But we’re gonna need another sheet. Sorry ‘bout that.”

I got a sheet from the linen closet and we got the bed back to something that didn’t look like an operating room. We settled in again, me more restlessly than Logan.

“What did you dream about?” he asked gruffly, when it was clear that I wasn’t settling.

When I didn’t answer, he subvocalized, warning that he’d ask again if I didn’t find something to say.

“Alberta.”

His emotions grumbled.

“All right, you being tortured in Alberta. Does it help anything for me to say it?”

“Hey, kid, just because those are my nightmares doesn’t mean that you get to growl like me when I don’t want to talk about ‘em.”

I chuckled reluctantly. “I don’t want to talk about them, either. They’re horrific.”

He grimaced, but as he rubbed my arm, tension faded from his body. “Every one, every time. That’s all you saw? Old stuff? Nothin’ new?”

“The old stuff is bad enough. Neither of us needs any new stuff. Why do you ask?”

“Just checkin’.”

“Checking what?”

He exhaled slowly, reluctantly. “You’ve been a _yogensha_ before, darlin’. Wanted to know if you were tonight, or if you just channeled an old soldier.”

 _Yogensha_ was Japanese for prophet or seer. Logan had called me that when I’d first come to the Xavier Institute, when I’d foreseen the arrival of enemies an hour before they’d arrived. When we’d gone to Burkan, we used my foresight to outwit kidnappers. By the time I’d ventured into Romania, my ability to read time lines had become instinct, telling me where to strike regardless of whom or what came at me. Remembering that, I considered Logan’s implied question seriously.

He waited patiently as I shut my eyes, breathed deeply, and let the time lines come.

They were quiet, without tumult. Without conviction, too.

“I don’t have much of a range forward, Logan. I don’t sense anything in the next few hours. Just a vague… indecision.”

He rolled over to curl my back against his chest. “So we’re good until mornin’.”

I nodded. “I hope so.”

“Good. We can go back to sleep.”

I rubbed his arm nervously. “Is it that easy for you to go back to sleep after what I just did?”

“I’m the one with the claws, which means you’re the one who oughta worry.”

His tone was guilty more than anything else. I murmured reassurance, but he nuzzled my neck.

“Just go back to sleep, darlin’.”

To my surprise, I did.

 

* * *

 

Getting up the next morning was as banal as such things are for a man and a woman – the first kiss without breathing to keep morning breath from grossing out either of us, the sleepy murmurings about what to eat for breakfast. Then I went into the bathroom where the shredded remnants of a bloody top sheet balled up on the floor made a silent lie out of the banality. I came out of the bathroom sobered.

The same sense must’ve come to Logan. When he joined me in the kitchen, he reached out to touch me with his usual affection, but his emotional background waxed darker than usual. I also sensed the same thread of confusion I’d felt since he’d returned from Romania. I hoped that it was only the remnants of his struggle to integrate the memories he’d recovered there, and not anything he picked up from me.

“You okay, darlin’?” he asked all too casually.

I nodded. “You?”

He nodded, but shot me a questioning look.

I shook my head. “No portents from the heavens, other than I could change my name to Delphi.”

He arched an eyebrow. “You gonna start speakin’ in incomprehensible couplets?”

“I hope not. I already confuse myself way too often.”

We ate a quiet breakfast. Afterwards, Logan went out to supplement his clothes with more than the single pair of jeans and shirt I’d had for him. I cleaned the bathroom and checked my bandages to find that all of the scratches had healed as I’d expected. Then I cleaned the bedroom and ordered a new lamp.

The phone rang. The caller ID was from the Xavier Institute. That would be Hank making his daily call to chat, so I picked up the receiver with a smile. But to my surprise, it wasn’t Hank’s growly voice I heard.

“Hello Rachel. This is Charles Xavier. I hope I’m not intruding.”

“Oh – hello, Professor. I hope you’re well.”

“I am well, Rachel; thank you. I hope you have recovered from your efforts in Romania.”

“I have, thank you.”

“I’m pleased to hear you say so, and so will your friends here at the Institute. Hank, especially, has been very concerned about you.”

“He still calls me every day, Professor. He’s been a good friend.”

“Yes, he has. I wish I could say that I have been one, as well. But I have not, and I’m truly sorry for my lapse. That’s why I called. I want to apologize to you for my reaction to Jean’s injury.”

“I wish I’d provided a better outcome, Professor. I understand why you are angry. But if you regret how you feel, please don’t blame Logan. He had nothing to do with what I did.”

“I understand, Rachel. And I now understand much more about the situation in which you found yourself. You might be surprised to know what staunch allies you have in Rogue, Kurt, and Hank. They’ve been quite vocal on your behalf since your visit to Hank’s medical lab three weeks ago.”

I smothered a smile, recalling what Rogue had said to Scott Summers after he’d thrown me out of Hank’s lab. Logan’s all-but-blood sister was rarely gifted with tact, but this had been pithy even for Rogue. She hadn’t been the only voice, either – Ororo had put in her quieter two cents’ worth, as had several others.

“I appreciate their kindness, Professor.”

“They are your good friends, as Logan has been to many of us as well as you. You’re right about my reaction, of course.” I seemed to hear regret in his sigh. “I was quite concerned at the… depth of Jean’s difficulty. I must confess that even though Rogue described the situation in which you found yourself, the… indiscriminant nature of the result seemed to have more of Logan’s handiwork about it than yours.”

“It was indiscriminant, and I am truly sorry –”

“I appreciate your willingness to bear the burden of this, Rachel,” Xavier said gently. “But it is I who must apologize, not you. You had very few options in a desperate situation, only an untried talent brought to fruition through extreme duress. I am grateful that you made the effort to save Scott. I am also grateful that you spoke to Jean three weeks ago, as well. Your simple analogy helped her understand, and more importantly, relax. She’s made good progress back to her earlier confidence. I especially thank you for that.”

I recalled Scott’s fury that had followed my brief discussion with Jean, but that was another topic. “You’re welcome, Professor. I’m so happy that I helped Jean. I want only the best for her. And please, let Logan off the hook for what happened.”

“I have done so,” Xavier said. “I am also delighted to hear of Logan’s return. I would like to invite both of you to the mansion so that I can make my apologies in person. Your friends have missed both of you, and we’d all like to see you again.”

I hesitated. “How does Scott feel about this?”

“He is not a man who lets go of his anger easily,” Xavier said frankly. “Especially where Jean is concerned. I ask that you understand the depth of his devastation about what happened to Jean.”

“I do. I just want him to leave Logan out of it. I know they don’t like each other, but this shouldn’t have added to the mix.”

“Neither of them are reasonable about their dislike of each other,” Xavier said ruefully.

“They’re guys, Professor. Logan’s the experienced freelance commando who doesn’t like uptight boy scouts, and Scott’s the disciplined, by-the-book officer who doesn’t like expedient loose cannons. Put Jean in the middle, and there you are.”

Xavier chuckled reluctantly. “Well said on all counts. I’m sure you’ve heard of the scathing response that Scott’s less-than-ceremonious demand for your departure received. His friends and colleagues were universal in their disapproval. He has done a great deal of soul searching since then, and he’s realized that it was both his dislike of Logan and his fear of losing Jean that made him react as he did to you. It won’t be easy for him to apologize to you, but he intends to. It will most likely be awkward and perhaps sullen, but I hope you will believe that his heart is in it.”

“What about Jean, Professor? I don’t want my presence to upset her.”

“”I have discussed this with her, Rachel, and she is one of the people who have urged me to invite you here to resolve this. It would gratify her if we could do so.”

“I appreciate you extending the offer, Professor. But let me be honest. I... need time to think about it.”

“I understand completely. Would it help to meet on more neutral territory, as it were?”

I hesitated. “That’s… possible. You should talk to Logan, too. I don’t want to speak for him.”

“An excellent suggestion, one I intend to follow as soon as I’ve talked to you. Does Logan still carry his cell phone?”

“He has it today.”

He chuckled ruefully. “I appreciate that. I shall call him straightaway. Thank you. And I hope to hear from both of you soon, once I have talked to Logan. Call me at any time.”

“I appreciate you calling.”

“You’re welcome. And I thank you for your forbearance, Rachel. I look forward to resolving this to everyone’s satisfaction.”

“So do I, Professor. Good-bye.”

“Good-bye.”

I put the phone down, as unsettled as I had been after my nightmare. Amazing as my mutant talents are, they aren’t always clear in what they mean, so I couldn’t yet tell if my uneasiness about the call and my nightmare were related. I was still mulling when a knock sounded at my door. I opened it to find Logan waiting outside with a couple of bags. He had on new boots and a new leather jacket.

“Looks like your shopping expedition went well,” I smiled, standing aside to let him in. “You didn’t have to wait outside, you know. I set the lock to let you in.”

His emotions waxed with uncertainty as he came inside. “Didn’t have to do that, darlin’. Might be better if you didn’t.”

I put my hands on his arms, drew him close, and kissed his lips. “You’re the samurai for House Osaka, which comes with access via the front door as well as the roof. Or maybe you’d like to sit out there with Burns and MacGregor every time I decide to spend an hour in the shower?”

He relaxed enough to kiss me back with a smile in his eyes and his hand caressing the nape of my neck. “You don’t spend an hour in the shower.”

“I could start.”

“You won’t.”

“Hmm.

I took his jacket and he followed me to the couch where he stretched his legs out before him and let his head fall back against the cushion. He sniffed once.

“You’re chewin’ on somethin’.”

I nodded. “Professor Xavier called. He wants to apologize to both of us.”

Logan grunted. “Wondered why he called me this mornin’.”

“Did you talk to him?”

He shook his head. “Thought it might have somethin’ to do with you, so I wanted to get your read first. What does the egghead want to apologize for?”

I exhaled with some apprehension. “For cutting us dead after I… projected in Chicago.”

“What about Ol’ Red Eyes?”

“I asked that very thing. Apparently he wants to, too.”

His snort was small but clearly skeptical. “That’ll be the day.”

“Maybe it’ll be a day very soon. The other X-Men weren’t happy when Scott threw me out three weeks ago.”

Logan’s emotions swirled in a cocktail of amusement and anger. “Haven’t heard all of that tale. Just that you cut Scott a new one and marched out after Hank stitched up all the holes I left in you.”

I shut my eyes. “I was so angry at him…”

“He brings that out in a lot of us. What did the damn’ Boy Scout do to set you off?”

I got up restlessly to look out of the window. “I thought I’d lost you, Logan. Maybe to Romulus, maybe to death, maybe just to amnesia. Scott didn’t know that. He didn’t know how badly I’d been hurt, either. So his emotions… they were so ugly…”

I fell silent, but Logan waited me out with equal quiet. His emotions prodded me – the guilt he felt for wounding me, and the animosity he felt for the ruby-visored X-Man. I glanced at him and tried to explain.

“What underlay most of his emotions was fear of losing Jean. But my own grief was too fresh. I slapped him with a projection until he stopped spouting, and then I told him exactly what his emotions were and why he felt them. Then I walked out.”

Logan whuffed with satisfaction. “Good.”

“No, it wasn’t. Kitty snuck herself and Rogue into the lab to hear the whole thing, and the two of them got the whole place in an uproar. Hank wasn’t happy about me walking out, either, so by the time the Professor got the whole story, Rogue had flayed Scott to within a millimeter of his life, and very few people thought she was out of line.”

Despite my apprehension, Logan grinned. “You’ve never seen Rogue in full voice. It’s elemental.”

“It wasn’t the right thing to do, Logan.”

He snorted, got up, and put his hands on my shoulders. “Was throwin’ you out the right thing to do?”

“No,” I agreed reluctantly.

“Did you tell Scott the truth?”

“Logan –”

“Did you mouth off at him, or did you tell him the truth?”

I sighed. “I told him the truth. Right from his own emotions.”

“Then what you and Rogue did was the right thing. You both did him a favor. And the rest of us.”

I didn’t speak, but Logan’s hands tightened on my shoulders. “I can smell that you’re edgy, Rachel. Does this have anythin’ to do with last night, or just Xavier’s call?”

“I don’t know. Talking to the Professor unsettled me more than I expected. I thought I’d feel… more relieved if the Professor ever offered to reconcile.”

“I’ll give Rogue a call. Find out all the stuff you didn’t say before I chat up Chuck. Might as well tell you I’m gonna do that, given that your talents will tell you anyway.”

“I’m not omniscient, Logan.”

“Good thing. Or you’d never want a thing to do with me.”

He stroked my hair, ambled out to the terrace despite the cold, and pulled out his cell phone.

While Logan made his calls, I tended the many plants that shared my rooms, trimming and watering and rotating. I checked email. I decided what to have for lunch. Just as the lamb and vegetable soup sent up its warm aroma, Logan came in from the terrace.

“Smells good.”

I handed him a basket of bread and crackers. He followed me to the low table before the fireplace where I laid out a plate of cheeses and other spreads. “How was Rogue?”

The grin on his face was perverse. “You didn’t tell me that the reason Ol’ Red Eyes was so pissed was because he wanted to be me.”

I rolled my eyes. “Scott doesn’t want to be you, Logan. But he does envy you in some ways, not the least of which is mixed up with Jean. I didn’t tell you that because your ego is already big enough, and you don’t need to rub Scott’s nose in anything.”

“True,” he conceded, but his grin didn’t fade. “You already did that.”

“Stop it, Logan. It was not something I enjoyed.”

Logan took the bowl of soup I passed him and followed me back to the table. He folded himself down on the floor with a smirk. “I bet he didn’t like it, either. I don’t blame him. I wouldn’t like knowin’ I had no chance to win the regard of Rachel Osaka.”

I put down my bowl and regarded him with arms akimbo. “Just what did Rogue tell you?”

To my surprise, he skewered me with his sharp eyes. “That you stuck up for me. That despite everything that was in that data drop, you still call me your samurai. That you grieved for me. That’s somethin’.”

I folded myself down and reached for naan to dip in the hummus. “You know how I feel about you.”

He whuffed. “Maybe you oughta get your head examined.”

I didn’t resist a smile. “You’re welcome.”

After a few minutes, Logan told me that he’d talked to Professor Xavier as well as Rogue, and confirmed that he’d received the same offer of reconciliation as I had. I didn’t pry, but I looked at him with a slight question on my face. Logan didn’t hesitate to reply.

“To tell you the truth, darlin’, I figured that the main reason Chuck wanted to apologize was because he wanted somethin’ from us. Not sure what, but I couldn’t see Scott unbendin’ enough to do it otherwise.”

I shrugged a concession. “That crossed my mind, too. Did you ask him in your usual tactful way?”

Logan glared at me. “I asked Rogue. Tactfully.”

“No, you didn’t, if you asked Rogue. You two snark at each other like real siblings.”

“We didn’t have to fight about this because she thought the same thing. Ain’t anythin’ she knows about. ‘Course, she thinks this all happened because of how hard she’s been bustin’ Scott’s chops.”

“Did it?”

“Don’t think it hurt. On top of that, our pals wouldn’t let Chuck ignore how Weapon X had treated you. Rogue and Kurt made him read their thoughts about gettin’ you out of Chicago, and Hank had the medical details about how badly you were cut up. Chuck told me that. And he didn’t say squat about anythin’ other than makin’ an apology.”

“So what do you want to do? Take him up on dinner?”

“Don’t see any reason not to. Besides, I’m gonna enjoy it when Ol’ Red Eyes grovels.”

“If he does, be gracious.”

Logan turned hard eyes on me. “Why should I? He dissed my lady, and I don’t take kindly to that.”

“I know you don’t, and I appreciate how much you care for me. But if you don’t snarl at him, then he’ll have all the more reason to envy you, wouldn’t he?”

His irritation faded behind grudging amusement. “Only you could think of a way to turn forbearance into a knife between Scott’s ribs.”

“Being gracious gives me more reason to think of you as a samurai, too.”

He winced, but with a chuckle. “That’s even lower.”

“So sue me.”

“You’re turnin’ into a vicious piece of work, kid.”

“You like me better with black wings than white ones.”

“All right,” he growled, conceding with a wave of his hand. “So you wanna take Chuck up on dinner at the mansion or someplace else?”

I sighed. “I suppose the mansion is fine. It’s probably safer than a public meeting spot.”

“Tonight good?”

“Why not? Might as well get it over with.” I tried to disguise my shiver by reaching for a cracker.

“Get what over with?” Logan asked softly.

I should know better than to think I can keep Logan from picking up on my disquiet. “I don’t know. Maybe nothing. As soon as I get an idea, you’ll be the next one to know.”

“Do that,” Logan said with a sharp look at me.

 

* * *

 

Rachel was antsy all afternoon. I wasn’t too calm myself – between memories rattling around in my head like balls in a Pachinko machine, my ongoing guilt about the nastiness I’d added to Rachel’s life, and her preoccupation with whatever she sensed coming, wariness twitched under my skin, too. Once lunch had settled, I suggested we take ourselves off on a long, hard run to wear us out. The exertion eased me enough. It didn’t do much for Rachel, because after our run, we visited Daniel O’Shea next door. Rachel brought him two dozen pecan tarts, apparently the payoff of a longstanding debt, half of which never saw the refrigerator. But Rachel’s real reason to visit was to ask the highland computer genius to check his wee beasties to see if trouble loomed on the horizon. Knowing how close Daniel kept electronic tabs on everything from security at Sanctuary to enemies both mutant and non-mutant of the X-Men, he’d already looked before we stopped by. But the signs seemed clear at this point, so we took our leave of the geeky Scotsman with nothing to worry about. Not that that stopped Rachel from finding something.

“You’re still edgy,” I observed as Rachel undressed for the shower.

She looked over her shoulder at me. “My eyes.”

I nodded. “Haven’t stopped glowin’ since you agreed to dinner.”

She looked away and took a long, deep breath. As she let it out, the glow of her eyes reluctantly faded, turning her from an eerie seer back to a beautiful geisha. “Better?”

I grinned perversely and snared her hand, easing her against my chest. “Worse. I have a lot fewer scruples about makin’ love to a beautiful woman than I do a prophet. But seein’ as how the prophet is you, I don’t have any scruples about makin’ love to you at all.”

She had that look in her eyes that I can’t describe in words, the one that was surrender, anticipation, challenge, and offering all at once. It was all I needed to forget my noise, strip, and do everything we both wanted. By the time we sated ourselves and finally got through the shower, the sun was falling.

Rachel seemed more relaxed as we dressed, but it was only a temporary respite when I saw what she intended to wear. Rachel wore black as a matter of course, occasionally with accents of deep red or jade green. This time she wore unrelieved black, and I don’t mean the girlie kind – tough jeans, boots with lugged soles, turtleneck sweater, and a leather motorcycle jacket that was streamlined and form fitting. It fit her as exquisitely as all of her clothes did, but the effect was severe, almost military.

Another thing to lay at my doorstep – that ingrained wariness, that loss of internal peace.

“You want a comm unit to go with that?” I commented from the bed where I watched her dress.

She looked back without apology. “Do you have one?”

“Do you think you’ll need one?”

She sighed. “I don’t know what I need, Logan. This is supposed to be a dinner of reconciliation, and that’s the last thing it feels like. I feel like I’m going into a fight.”

“Maybe you just want to punch Ol’ Red Eyes. Can’t say as I blame you.”

“That’s not what I want to do.”

I exhaled, and decided to push. “That’s not what you want to do, or that’s not what you think is polite?”

Rachel looked at me with something close to anger in her eyes.

“I got no love for Ol’ Red Eyes, and if anyone needs a kick in the ass, he does. But you got your own issues with rage, darlin’. Maybe you’re edgy because you don’t wanna admit that you’re pissed.”

Rachel proved that she was a better person than I was by uncoiling right away. She sat next to me on the bed and stroked my hair.

“I thought about that, too, Logan. I thought about it long and hard. And I’d like to say that that’s all it is. But… sometimes I’m still not sure where I stand with my own emotions. Now is one of those times.”

I nodded. “Then we’ll take this like your talents are pickin’ up somethin’. Now, you better stop that.”

“What?”

I took her hand out of my hair. “Or we’ll be late.”

I got a smile out of her. “I suppose we shouldn’t start off a reconciliation by being late.”

I growled suggestively, but she picked up my folded jeans and handed them to me. She seemed looser, so I contented myself with a mock grumble as I pulled on the jeans.

In case Rachel’s premonition was more than her own noise, I passed over my new cowboy boots for the combat boots I’d worn in Romania. They’d survived the mess better than I had, and if we were going into a fight, I wanted their traction. I pulled on my usual undershirt and flannel, and my new leather jacket on top of that. “The hog or the Jag?”

“It’s December, and as much as I’d prefer the Harley, I think we’d better take the Jaguar. Besides, I have a bootful of presents for the children.”

“Santa in black, eh?”

“That makes you the chief elf.”

I held up my hands in demurral. “That’s Kurt’s job, not mine. Let’s go.”

I helped Rachel cart three bags of goodies down to the garage, and at first I thought she humored my ego to hand me the car keys to the British E Series classic that her father had given her. Maybe she did, but once she got into the car, her eyes lit again, and I figured out that me driving meant that she didn’t have any distractions from what her talents fed her about the time lines. We didn’t talk much on the drive, but I smelled Rachel’s emotions chill to as close to zero as such things got. It reminded me of when she’d appeared in a Romanian Quonset hut, three downed special ops around her, an Uzi in one hand and a wakizashi in the other, eyes ablaze, and on the hunt for me. I’m sure she had no idea how lethal she’d been then, or how daunting she looked now.

We turned into the long drive that led up to the Xavier mansion. “Anythin’?” I asked.

Rachel shook her head. “That may mean that there’s nothing, or it may mean that I haven’t focused on the right person yet, or it may mean that whatever’s going to happen is farther out than an hour or so. That part of my talent is very hit or miss.”

I grunted. “Fair enough.”

I pulled up before the front door, switched off the engine, and helped Rachel haul the bags from the boot. She rang the doorbell nervously, but the door pulled open almost before she’d rung the bell.

“Miss Rachel’s here! Miss Rachel’s here!”

Andrew Skyler, the youngest student currently at the Institute, was small, even for a ten-year old, and purple – hair, skin, eyes, and pointed elfin ears. He had a photographic memory and a drawing talent second to none – but right now he jumped up and down like a pogo stick. Then he threw himself at Rachel.

Rachel’s apprehension shattered as she stooped to hug Andrew like a long-lost sibling. Then she tried to answer the first million of the kid’s questions – how was she, and had she missed him, and where was her sword, and did she still practice with it, and what was in the bags, and did she want to know what he’d gotten from Santa Claus.

“Well, here’s one from me,” Rachel smiled, reaching into one of the bags and getting out a tin. When Rachel worried, she cooked, and in the three weeks it’d taken me to drag myself home from Romania, she’d concocted a lot more than Daniel’s pecan tarts. All of the kids at the Institute were in for one big sugar high.

“Hey, thanks!” Andrew beamed. “I made you a picture, Miss Rachel! I hope you like it.”

He thrust the picture into Rachel’s hand. I expected it to be spectacular, but I didn’t expect it to be of me. Apparently Rachel thought it was good, because her eyes were bright with more than her talents, and she showed it to me with a smile. But she didn’t have time to speak because the other kids crowded around her, and she was busy handing out the rest of the tins. ‘Ro and Rogue took advantage of the general excitement to sneak up with hugs and smiles for me.

“Welcome home, Logan. We missed you.”

“Thanks, ‘Ro. Missed you, too.”

“Even Ah missed you, bro,” Rogue smirked, but her hug belied her snarky remark. “How’s Rachel?”

“Edgy.”

“Understandable. But everyone’s glad to see you both,” ‘Ro replied.

“Everyone?” I said pointedly.

“Scott’s… taken a pounding,” ‘Ro admitted.

“Damn’ straight,” Rogue growled, her expression hard.

I tugged the white streak in her hair, appreciation for her support. “I live for those moments.”

Rogue grinned impishly. “This time, you have reason to.”

By then, Bobby, Kurt, Hank, and Peter had smothered Rachel with hugs, and Jubilee had tackled me like the kid sister she was. On the one hand, I was relieved that seeing her friends again had dimmed the glow in Rachel’s eyes. On the other, that glow wasn’t completely gone, which didn’t ease my guilt about what compelled her to keep up her guard.

Guilt – that emotion worked me hard tonight. It didn’t help that my junkyard dog sense of alienation was in full force, either. The combination of the two made the mansion claustrophobic, a cage. I wanted nothing other than to vanish into the dark, but for Rachel’s sake, I leashed my emotions and stayed in the background.

Chuck wheeled forward to greet us, and the crowd parted to let him through. Rachel straightened nervously, and the light in her eyes intensified again.

“Rachel, I thank you so much for coming. It’s very good to have you here again. And Logan, I’m glad you’re back with us. You’ve both been missed.”

I nodded my acceptance, but for once was smart enough to keep my mouth shut. Rachel, however, smiled tentatively.

“Thank you, Professor. It’s… good to see everyone again.”

“I regret the circumstances that kept you away for this long, Rachel. Please accept my apologies for my lack of understanding, and my warmest appreciation for your visit tonight. I hope it will be the first of many future visits.”

“I hope so, too,” Rachel said quietly.

Chuck nodded and looked to me. “Logan, welcome back. It’s good to have you among us again. I’m sorry for my reaction to you and Rachel, and I hope that you will forgive me for it.”

I came to Rachel’s side and put my hand on her shoulder. “Wasn’t a good time in Chicago, Chuck. Not a lot of choices to make, good or bad. Thanks for comin’ to understand that.”

“I have. I appreciate your tolerance of my lapse.”

Rachel caught a glimpse of Scott behind Chuck. Her eyes flared to full brightness and the temperature of the room seemed to drop twenty degrees. I squeezed her shoulder once in mute support.

“Hello, Scott,” she said softly.

He nodded once to her and didn’t look at me at all. His Adam’s apple jumped, and his scent revealed that Cyclops, the head of the X-Men, Ol’ Red Eyes, was nervous as all get out. I savored that, but kept any grin off my face. Rachel was focused as tightly as the killer she’d been taught to be, and while she didn’t project a thing, she carried herself with enough sheathed menace that I smelled the apprehension of everyone in the hall. If Scott and Xavier didn’t realize the power before them, they were both fools.

Rachel made a visible effort to relax, to dim her eyes. She reached into one of her bags and took out another tin.

“I made you some devil’s food cupcakes.”

No one said anything when Scott took the gift awkwardly, as if Rachel’s offer had put him off balance. But I’ll give him this – when he took it, he mustered a rueful smile from somewhere.

“You didn’t put any arsenic in them, did you?”

Rachel smiled, and her eyes dimmed a bit more. “No. But they do have green icing.”

Her light tone eased the tension, and several people chuckled, including Scott.

“I… guess I earned that,” he said.

Rachel shrugged, but she was smiling.

“I’m sorry about that. I was out of line to boot you out of here.”

“I’m sorry that Jean and you and the other people who came to get me out of Chicago got hurt. I’m grateful that you all rescued me.”

“You’re welcome. And thank you for saving my life,” Scott said awkwardly. Then he met my eyes. “Logan, glad you made it back in one piece.”

I nodded once. “Thanks.”

“I’m… sorry about treating Rachel the way I did. And for blaming you for what happened to Jean.”

He stuck out his hand towards me, but I didn’t take it right away. I let the silence hang, savoring Ol’ Red Eyes’ apology like a fine cigar that needed to be smoked down to the last ash.

I’ll give Rachel this – she never projected at me, never pushed me to end that long, awkward pause where I let Scott twist in the wind. But eventually I took Scott’s hand in my own.

“Shoulda known I thought too much of Red to wish any harm to her,” I growled, but softly.

Scott swallowed hard and his face tightened, but he nodded. “Yeah. I know that. Good thing I know how you feel about Rachel, or I’d be worried.”

It was only Rachel’s regard that kept me from torqueing him with a crack about why he should stay worried, so I made do with a smirk and let it go along with Scott’s hand. The tension between us, though, stayed high until Rachel with her usual tact found a tin of something for Chuck, and attention turned from me and Scott. People started drifting into the big dining room, leaving Scott and me to face each other more or less civilly. I wasn’t strong enough to resist one last shot.

“Nice of you to bring up how I feel about my lady, Scott,” I said. “Because I do think a lot of her. Not so much about anybody who disses her, especially to toss her out just after surgery. If that happens again, I won’t act so nice about it.”

Scott nodded blandly enough, but I smelled his irritation. “I’m sorry about that, and it won’t happen again. Can I offer you a word of advice?”

“Knock yourself out.”

“Do something to make sure your lady doesn’t end up here again for trying to bail you out.”

He didn’t gloat about hanging me up by my balls, but turned on his heel to head for the dining room – only to find Rachel blocking his way, arms akimbo. Behind the glow of her eyes, she was angry.

“Logan didn’t ask me to go to Romania, Scott,” she said evenly. “I went because it wasn’t in me to leave a friend to stand alone against something he knew nothing about. Wouldn’t you have done that for Jean? For Ororo? For Kurt? For any number of people? Isn’t that support one of the things that the X-Men are supposed to stand for?”

Scott swallowed.

“Let me offer _you_ a word of advice, Scott. Do something to remind the X-Men that you _are_ an X-Man. Because sniping at one of them for personal reasons doesn’t.”

Her words applied to me as well as Scott. I clenched my teeth, but Rachel came and took my arm before I said anything.

“Come on. Let’s get something to eat.”

I let her steer me to the dining room. “Thanks for bailin’ me out again.”

“It was the other way around,” she replied quietly.

“How’s that?”

“You bailed me out. If we’d stayed out here in the hall, I would’ve thought about frying him with more than words.”

I patted her arm. “We can hang here a while longer if you want.”

She kept walking. “Better we go eat. Scott doesn’t need any more orifices.”

I smothered a snort. My lady was getting an attitude. That didn’t distract me from the fact that Scott had been right. Too many times, I’d been the cause of Rachel’s woes.

 

* * *

 

Dinner was a nervous affair, for me if no one else. Only Scott, Logan, and I had been part of the exchange in the hall, so everyone chatted and munched on the delicious buffet spread as if all were well again. But Scott’s barbs had stung Logan, even if Logan didn’t say so. From almost the first moment we’d met, Logan had regretted how his baggage had hurt me, and Scott had said only what Logan had told himself more times than not. On top of it, Logan was rarely comfortable in social situations, even with the people he knew best, and the depth of his alienation goaded me painfully. I kept a tight watch on his emotions even as I smiled and laughed. It was enough of a juggling act that I didn’t eat much, or sample the time lines as often as I wanted, but when I did, nothing seemed to loom near.

I kept us at the party long enough to reassure the children that all was well, and to have the conversation with Jean that I’d hoped for. She was recovering well, which reassured me, and she held no ill will towards Logan or me. I also talked to Rogue, who hadn’t needed my empathy or Jean’s telepathy to see the strain between Logan and Scott. I clued her in only with the promise that she not trumpet it and spoil the gathering. She promised to stay low key.

I got in my Jaguar with several presents and scant relief that we’d gotten through the night as well as I could have hoped for.

Then Logan got behind the wheel. His emotions were harsh – self-loathing and guilt highest among them.

My apprehension zeroed in on this moment. This was what the time lines had led to. My heart pounded and my mouth was suddenly dry.

“Scott got under your skin,” I said, fighting to keep my voice soft and low.

“He didn’t say anythin’ that wasn’t true.”

“He didn’t say a lot of other things that were true, either. Such as how glad I am that you bailed me out of Alberta, Chicago, Burkan, and BC.”

“Or that associatin’ with me is what put you in places that you needed bailin’ out from.”

“You know enough Buddhist philosophy to know that nothing exists in isolation.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It wasn’t you who put me in harm’s way. Weapon X did that. And don’t drag in Burkan. We stopped a kidnapping, and I was never in any more danger than you were. And thinking that if you vanish you’ll somehow stop what happens to me isn’t good, either. You can’t exist in isolation any more than I can.”

He glanced at me over the steering wheel and seemed to smile reluctantly. “Didn’t know that bein’ an empath meant that you could carry on both sides of the conversation by yourself.”

“I can do only the next several exchanges, not the whole thing. Don’t say that you weren’t going to say any of that. I can smell your emotions as well as feel them, and you smell like you’re about to leave me.”

“What exactly does that smell like?”

“Like you hate yourself and you’re about to do something that you think is noble and isn’t, because it’s letting Scott push you into something to prove some macho point.”

“I didn’t need Ol’ Red Eyes to make me regret how I put you at risk, Rachel.”

“I didn’t need him to torque you about something I know you’ve wrestled with ever since we met, either.”

Logan exhaled, looking angry, but his emotions ratted him out – it was pain he felt, not anger. “You don’t know what it’s like to lose someone because your past bites.”

“Yes, I do.”

“I came back.”

“So did I.”

He glared at me. “I got nothin’ to offer you but the same shit, Rachel. No home, no name, no peace. We got no chance for a peaceful life together. I got no chance for peace at all. Maybe you still do.”

“Stop the car,” I demanded.

“Why?”

“Because I want to go back to the mansion.”

“What for?”

“I’m going to have words with Mr. Summers.”

“You won’t change anythin’.”

“Maybe not. But I’ll feel better.”

“No, you won’t.”

“Stop the car, Logan.”

He kept driving.

“Fine. This’ll hurt, but I’ll get over it. Eventually.”

I shoved the door open. Logan slammed on the brakes with a curse, slewing the Jaguar around until it came to a skidding stop across both sides of the roadway. I clicked off my seat belt, climbed out of the car, and marched towards the mansion.

“Rachel!” Logan growled, stalking after me. He pulled me around, but I jerked out of his grip. “C’mon, Rachel.”

“I mean it. I will call out the Boy Scout and give the children something to talk about for weeks.”

Logan didn’t know whether to laugh or growl. I took advantage of his hesitation to continue up the driveway. I got only three steps further before he caught my hand again.

“I appreciate the thought, darlin’. But it won’t change anythin’.”

I pulled my hand away. “It was a spiteful thing for him to say, not that you smacking him about dissing me was any better. It’s bad enough that the two of you are such opposites that you can’t stop grating on each other. But do you think that what I said is making him break up with Jean right now? Do you think that he’s going to change anything because of words between you? Why are you doing this because of a dumb remark that was just another sally in an ongoing male pissing contest?”

Logan looked at me skeptically. “What the hell are you talkin’ about, woman?”

“You’re about to take off out of some stupid idea that doing so will spare me grief, aren’t you? Why do you listen to him when he spouts all that dreck, but you won’t listen to me when I remind you of the good things? Damn you stupid, ignorant, posturing… men! Why can’t you two stop the pissing contest, and if you can’t, why can’t you keep it between the two of you and leave the rest of us out of it? In fact, I think that’s something I should ask both of you!”

I let my fury explode. I projected it at Logan and made him trail behind me the rest of the way up the driveway.

 

* * *

 

It is no picnic when you piss off your woman so badly that she projects the fury of Hell at you if you do anything other than tag behind her. Fried nerve endings don’t begin to cover it. I told myself that I was just playing along because I wanted to see what she’d do to Scott, but that was bullshit. Her projections hurt like hell, and I wasn’t going anywhere except where she wanted me to.

She dragged my ass through the door of Chuck’s fancy mansion, down the hall, and into the kitchen where Scott and Jean helped ‘Ro and some of the kids clean up the remains of dinner.

“I want to talk to you, Scott,” she demanded. Her control was so good that no one felt her snag Ol’ Red Eyes with the same projection that had me pinned, though he winced visibly enough that Jean’s face spasmed with apprehension.

“We’re going to clear the air. In the Danger Room,” she said to the room, then turned on her heel and headed out. “Tell Kitty that if I catch her or anyone else sneaking in there, there will be hell to pay. So stay out of my way until this is settled!”

I had just a moment to glimpse Jean start after us, but ‘Ro held her back. Then Scott and I both winced our way after Rachel down to the X-Men levels and into the Danger Room.

“This is going to end now,” Rachel snarled when the door shut behind us. She slammed buttons on the console to turn on the overhead lights, but she didn’t start a sim. Then she stopped projecting.

“What the hell is this about?” Scott snapped when he got his breath. He didn’t go nose to nose with Rachel, but his posture was anything but conciliatory.

Rachel reacted instantly, pushing him back a step with a hard shove. “The stupid alpha male sniping between you two; that’s what it’s about. I don’t care if you like each other or not. I do care when your sniping hurts people around you. It’s not just me the empath who feels it – it’s Jean, it’s Jubilee, it’s the X-Men, it’s the children. You two have turned your mutual dislike into a public mess, and it doesn’t matter who started it. Blame my uncontrolled projections if you want. But the two of you are going to call a cease fire so that the rest of us have peace!”

Rachel shoved him back another step. She should’ve looked ridiculous, given how much shorter she was than he, but he was so shocked that he was the one who looked intimidated.

“Your love for Jean is a wonderful thing, Scott, but not when you turn it into an excuse to hurt everyone around you. You smother Jean with it; you tee off at anything you think is threatening. What happened in Chicago was the fortunes of war. I would have chosen any other way to save your life if one had been available, but it wasn’t. So save your blame for me, where it belongs, and not Logan!”

She swung around to shove me. “I cherish you more than anything in the world, Logan, but I am quite able to take care of myself, regardless of what comes my way, whether from your past, mine, or anything else. We have our issues. If you’re so afraid that you focus on the negative, I can’t stop you. But if you’ve got the guts to face the positive, then here I am. Decide for yourself and not because of what scares you or what anyone else says!”

She headed for the door, but turned at the last minute to glare at us both. “You’re both X-Men. You put your lives on the line every day for people you don’t even know. Have the grace to offer the same thing to your friends. You stop this pissing contest, or I will show both of you firsthand just how well I learned everything that Weapon X taught me!”

She sent one last slap of fury at us, painful enough to give us both nosebleeds. Rachel met our curses with a look that brooked no retaliation, no rebuke, and strode out of the Danger Room with her head high. The door closed behind her, leaving Scott and me to stare at each other.

Scott looked so stunned that I almost felt sorry for him. I cracked a perverse smile and wiped my nose with the back of my hand.

“Empaths are damn’ dirty fighters,” I observed.

Scott blinked behind his visor and found the ability to move again. He dabbed at his nose as if he didn’t believe what she’d done. “Um… uh, telepaths, too. Jean’s done the same thing to me a couple of times. Comes out of nowhere.”

“Not this time.” I scratched the back of my head. “We both gave her plenty of ammo.”

Scott looked away. “I guess we did.”

I crossed my arms over my chest and looked askance at Scott. “Sorry about Red. She’s a hell of a woman, and you’re a lucky man.”

“I know it,” Scott nodded. He met my eyes. “So’re you.”

I whuffed. “You don’t know the half of it.”

“She really grieved for you when Hank brought her here from Romania.”

I nodded. “Just one reason why I don’t think I do her any favors to stick with her.”

Scott cracked a smile and put his arms akimbo. “You’d better. She’s the only thing that keeps you from turning into a complete Neanderthal.”

“Bite me, Visor Boy,” I growled, matching his posture. “You think you do Red any favors to wrap yourself around her like a wet blanket? You keep tryin’ to put her in a prison because you’re scared to let her stand on her own two feet.”

Now it was Scott’s turn to wince and scratch the back of his head. “Yeah, I know it. Jean’s said as much, and so has the Professor. But…”

I went back to my folded arms. “Hard to keep the ol’ protective instincts under control.”

“Yeah,” Scott muttered. “I’m sorry I made it sound like you set up why Rachel got hurt. Rogue really burned me about that. It was a brave thing Rachel did, going after you. Probably saved your life.”

I nodded. “No probably about it.”

He flexed his hands gingerly. “Man, it is not smart to tee her off. My fingers are still numb.”

I nodded again. “She’s hard to push, but when ya do…. So, are we done here?”

Scott thought about it, nodded. “No point in fighting about it.”

“You ever want to get it on, I’ll be glad to meet you down here.”

“You’re on, but Rachel was right about keeping it offline. We do it here, on the QT. Besides, we don’t want to give her and Jean anything to gloat about.”

“True statement.”

“So… truce?” Scott stuck out his hand again.

I looked at it and arched an eyebrow. “You gonna mean it this time?”

He nodded.

“For how long?”

“For as long as you can keep from mouthing off about it.”

“I oughta. But I’ll bet Red’s out there as well as Rachel, and we’d have both of ‘em to deal with.”

Scott whistled. “Not pretty.”

“The dog house never is.”

I took Scott’s hand. We shook briefly, neither of us willing to push such a fragile truce with too much contact. I led the way to the door.

We came out into the hall. I expected to see most of the mansion denizens crowding close by, but only Jean was there. She gave us both a questioning look.

“Where’s Rachel?” I asked.

Jean regarded us quizzically. “I’ve never seen her so angry. She threatened everyone with death if we interrupted you, then she left. Have you been fighting? You’ve both got bloody noses.”

Scott’s eyes met mine. I looked back with no less caution. “I wouldn’t call it that. The lady didn’t let either of us get in much of a defense.”

“Got that right,” Scott muttered under his breath.

That drew an interesting smile from Jean. “Good for her. So are things settled between you?”

I gave Scott a wary look. “Never better.”

“Yeah. Great,” Scott seconded, eying me just as warily.

Jean pursed her lips, knowing a guy agreement for what it was. “Good.”

“Guess I better see if I still have a ride,” I said. “See ya.”

“’Bye, Logan,” Jean replied.

“’Night, Logan,” Scott echoed.

I left them in the hall, headed upstairs, and ignored all the questioning looks I got on my way out of the front door. I headed down the driveway, hoping that Rachel had only retreated to the Jag and hadn’t driven home alone.

Sure enough, she leaned on the hood, her eyes downcast. They weren’t glowing. She had Andrew’s picture in her hand, and her stance was disconsolate.

“Hey, kid.”

Rachel didn’t move from her slouch against the car. “What?”

“Are you still pissed, or are you willin’ to give an old soldier a ride?”

She kept looking at the portrait. “Are you still looking to bug out?”

When she looked back at me, I shook my head. “I know when I got a good thing. Ain’t lookin’ to lose that.”

I don’t know whether she came into my arms or I pulled her close, but when her head lay on my shoulder, the question of who started it was moot. I savored the embrace silently.

“I’m sorry I got so angry.”

I rubbed her back. “Don’t ruin an epic scene with an apology. It was something to see you push Ol’ Red Eyes around the Danger Room.”

She smiled guiltily. “I pushed you around the Danger Room, too.”

I rumbled. “Scott probably liked that part.”

She tsked. “You two would drive a saint to drink.”

“I could use a beer.”

“You’re no saint,” she said with asperity.

“Never claimed to be. But... I never wanted to torque you the way I have, darlin’. I’m sorry –”

“Don’t ruin your sterling reputation as alpha male with an apology.”

I tsked. “You still tryin’ to push me around, kid?”

She was silent for a long moment. “You can leave if you want to. I just didn’t want you to because of some stupid macho thing. If you’re out of love, then go.”

I nuzzled her ear. “I’ll keep the distinction in mind. But I’m good if you are.”

“I am.”

We stood for a few minutes while Rachel got herself under control. That stabbed at me, knowing she’d miss me that much if I left. But Scott’s fingers weren’t the only ones that were still numb, and whether I liked it or not, my lady had the chops to bite if she wanted to. I hoped they’d be enough to keep her safe.

“You ready to go home?” I asked gruffly.

“Are you?”

“Yup.”

We got in the car.

 

# # #


End file.
